"Unfriended" (P.o.t.D. 7/26/15, no rev)

She lingers in my thoughts, a resentment
That subtly preys upon my peace of mind.
I am perplexed why she left no mention
When she cut off contact in ways unkind.

"Give Us Room" (P.o.t.D. 7/25/15, rev 8/13/17)

We do not wish to be cast as unique,
Separated by perceived difference.
We do not like being afraid to speak,
Set off by those who think we make no sense.

It's just common ground, with you, that we seek;
'Fore we can shed our fears and our pretence.
'Tis fair treatment of the humble and meek
To be allowed room to "get off our fence"...?

"Nothing Gained" (P.o.t.D. 7/24/15, no rev)

"Pick up the pebble, playing 'pon my palm."
Swish! Snatched at too slowly, securing zilch!
Even with nothing, you remain so calm -
A Zen master, not flustered by failed filch.

"Seed Cycle" (P.o.t.D. 7/16/15, rev 7/25/17)

The flowers' petals have fallen away,
Leaving tiny green seed pods in bunches
That will grow into red berries one day
To become many hungry birds' lunches.
What will happen next, is Nature at play -
"New blooms, far away" - those are my hunches.

"Ode to Beginner's Mind" (P.o.t.D. 7/15/15, no rev)

Most days, my mind is like an empty vase,
Free from all sorts of bother and worry.
Without clutter, life is easy to face,
And I don't run amuck in a hurry.

"Writer's Lament" (P.o.t.D. 6/14/15, no rev)

The desire is an ashen ember -
Dying bonfire in the summer night -
As painful weariness draws out the tears
Sacrificed upon losing writer's fight.

"Oh, Thank Heaven!" (written for contest: "Sandwish") (P.o.t.D. 6/6/15, no rev)

Sandwiches at the 7-Eleven
Live for only two days, or perhaps three,
Before they're written off to some heaven -
At least, that's what the dumpster divers see...

I could say, "Oh, so much more...", but, "Alas!"
By working there, my words face an impasse.

"Navigating Highs and Lows" (contest entry) (P.o.t.D. 6/2/15, no rev)

The summer that I just turned twenty-four,
A bipolar episode crossed my door...

Now that I have somehow turned forty-two,
I have learned tricks to appear sane to you.

Eighteen years of suffering strange mood swings
Has led to much pained wisdom that each brings.

acrostic... (P.o.t.D. 5/24/15, no rev)

Am I awake, or a sleeping zombie?
Nothing spins my mind like thought tornadoes -
Growing such grand replays within my head -
Enter people telling me that I'm wrong,
Reasoning with flawed logic, emotion...

Seems like science is under such attacks
Everywhere I look, without mercy,
Eroded by popular opinions
That won't face up to lining up the facts.
How has the wool been pulled over our eyes
Every day by snake-oil debaters?
Saddens me, that this - this is our culture...

"Sixth Street Saga" (P.o.t.D. 5/20/15, no rev)

Before the clock had struck barely past ten,
A painted up tart waggled her loose tongue,
And a fray spilled out from the seedy den
Over all the damage her words had done.

For them to regain order and control,
The cops passed through the crowd, on razor’s edge,
Binding and cuffing and bumping heads ‘til –
They wound up Plopping dozens behind bars.

As the wounded's anger fizzled and itched,
A palpable foul cloud permeated
The jail’s grid, leaving all on razor’s edge,
Wafting like a toxic substance, heated.

Hours later, the tart still drank at the bar,
While the angry men fumed in the dank cells
And the police kept the streets, under guard.
She’d make no money that night for “a nail”.

"Changing Our Tunes" - contest - The last analog generation (P.o.t.D. 5/19/15, rev 5/19/17)

When I was ten, and my brother fifteen,
We'd wage war with plastic models reworked.
His flagship? A SR-71
With a launching bay for a small fighter...
That was '82, when we played vinyl.

The summer I turned nineteen, I played games,
Like Battletech, at a fantasy con,
With friends I had met a few weeks before
Through BBS networks, across Dallas...
'91, and walkmans still held some sway.

I was 28, living like Spartans
With roommates who would play lots of board games.
Strange that no computer was always on,
We couldn't afford that necessity...
2000, probably CD's last years.

Now, I'm 42, though youths would not know
How that's the "Answer", because they don't read
Anything beyond their Facebook news feed.
Alas, I find myself playing phone games...
Today, we download and skip radio.

"Hallmark" (P.o.t.D. 5/10/15, no rev)

Is it another Hallmark holiday?
Mothers and fathers and lovers and more
Are sent cards, given dinner - loved this way...
Hopefully, it does not feel like a chore.
It would be nice to be thankful each day,
Alas, we forget, most days, to be sure.

"Where do I go from here?" (P.o.t.D. 5/8/15, no revs)

Some times, we just want to get out and skate,
Not caring about careers, or ladies -
Just riding the board, doing tricks 'til late.

Some times, we will take time out for the gym,
To push and pull machines and their weighties,
To stretch our bodies' muscles to their lim...

You see, we don't want to live in our head
When we can play board games with our maties
And chuckle when their armies are all dead.

You see, men get quite a lot of their joy
Reliving our youth, back in the eighties -
Simple times, when each of us was a boy.

"Poverty Laments" (P.o.t.D. 5/4/15, no rev)

Life becomes much harder when I'm so poor.
I worry on how I'll catch up on rent,
I can't buy food at the grocery store...
Where, oh where, has all of my money went?

I'm kept under thirty hours at my job,
Paid close to the minimum hourly wage -
So on healthcare.gov, I can still shop,
But without employer help, I do rage!

Sixteen dollars per month, earned in food stamps
Do not stretch very far - maybe four meals?
Does not eating right lead to muscle cramps?
I don't know. Doctor's fees are so unreal.

So, that's a peek at my painful pinches
Of poverty, at which my heart wrenches.

"Two Bee Attempts" (P.o.t.D. 5/1/15, no rev)

To fly, like a bee,
From hive to flowers, all day,
Working to make food.

Or...

Flying amidst fields of fertile flowers,
I gather pollen, all through the day's hours,
Only to return to my humble home,
To feed queen and larvae who cannot roam.

"Talking About the Weather" (P.o.t.D. 4/28/15, no rev)

A damp chill crept into town, late last night,
Riding forth on the backs of slate grey clouds -
Casting grave portents of much rain, today
To bless the fields and their flowering crowds.

"Ten Year Chip" (P.o.t.D. 4/26/15, no rev)

The brass medallion holds a bit of weight,
Engraved with an "X" for ten sober years -
Some quite happy, and others not so great -
Earned today after much laughter and tears.

"Finding My Boyhood Kindness..." (P.o.t.D. 4/20/15, no rev)

Why does the crawling cockroach scare me so?

The hairs on my skin bristle at the thought
Of that bug touching me with prickly legs!
So I would end its brief life's crawl without
Second thoughts, claiming, "Oh! But it lays eggs!"

As a young boy, I would embrace bugs, frogs,
Snakes, and other non-mammals with such glee!
Did I grow wiser, as I aged, because
Bites and stings can cause pain - that I now see?

Yet I've grown softer now, and show respect
For all the many lives beyond my own.
Show them to the great outdoors, to infect
Some other boy, with new wonders he's shown.

"Separation Anxiety..?" (P.o.t.D. 4/17/15, no rev)

Seasons roll on, in this cycle of life.
Despite our clinging to those brief moments,
The Reaper will swing wide his razor scythe
And separate us from our sharp torments.

"'Alone!', he wails..." (P.o.t.D. 4/13/08, rev 6/24/17)

Restrain tongue and pen, in work and in play --
Emotions checked, yet lusty obsessions
Simmer, seeking to have their ugly say.
Public, private perspectives, perceptions
Entwined, interwoven, in tangled skein.
Confusing courage with cries of caution,
Tangled I am found, again and again -
I am lost in deontic ties that bind.
Now... do I cross antiquated fences,
Gaining insight, facing fears, in my mind?

Before, I would "sit in solemn silence",
Overcome my feelings, yet... highstrung... tense -
Untold wreckage building upon my soul,
Never once did I feel complete and whole.
Dwelling in a pure ivory tower,
And discontent... alone... each midnight hour.
Reason only took me farther - too far -
Inside self, loves buried in aching heart,
Encamped, enclosed, entrapped, entombed "in a
Steel cage" - a lean role sans sensual sin.

Inhibitions: respect? ... or overcome?
Note, then, the true fears from among the sum.

Look... Listen... Love... and the world unfolds!
Infinite nuances will be revealed,
From which billions of stories can be told -
Experiences that can truly heal.

Everyone has a story to tell;
Stories so deep, they cause my heart to swell!
Pensive, I will miss their insights around
Even though, like armies, do they surround.
Circled by artisans, artists, arsons;
Igniting passions, felt by all senses.
Around my prison of independence
Lay self-centered lies from self-sufficience;
Leading me to forget growth from "my mind,
Your mind, learning when we are intertwined".

Ignoring others, I find I become
Narcistic, pessimistic... my thoughts, numb.

Life is too short to live in a ship's hold;
Overcome, I must, these imagined seals!
Voyeuer, no more - engage others, be bold -
Enrich my life, sharing others' ordeals!